Angel Pie
by Jess-Neko-93
Summary: When Dean almost kills himself, Castiel does something drastic to save him. Wing!Kink, language, violence, fluff, sex.
1. ANNOUNCEMENT

So I've been working with Queenfluffernutter again, who is just so good for my writer's block it isn't funny.

So the following are the updated chapters for Angel Pie!


	2. Chapter 1

Dean is freaking out. Like, really freaking out. He hasn't felt this panicky since the Apocalypse.

"Cas, Cas!"

The angel is right in front of him, but Dean can't seem to even focus. Voices are muted and the world is blurry. Every time he blinks, the world flashes in bright, painful colours, until Dean squints his eyes shut again. Muscles he didn't have before twitched nervously, and tendons stretched and contracted, painful as if he'd had them his whole life, but never used them. This was the new definition of hell as far as Dean was concerned.

He could see, he could _feel _Castiel's lips moving, but he couldn't hear them, couldn't _focus_ on them. The world was tipping sideways now, and Castiel's hand on his scar was the only thing grounding him to reality, however even that was slipping. He didn't know where Sam was, and he hoped that his baby brother wasn't seeing any of this. Poor kid had enough on his plate without dealing with his pansy big brother having a panic attack.

That's what this is, right? He'd seen people having panic attacks before. It's like a dark little moment to yourself, and it looks and feels like the whole world is shut out. Nothing gets in. Your body shuts down. And right now, Dean's body was shutting off, saying a big fuck you to the world for hurting him. He was defending himself, really, even if it was just mentally. The stress of Kevin's death and Sam's leaving had _finally _broken Dean.

He was broken.

"Dean," a voice reached out somewhere from darkness that was inside of him.

He blinked a few times, and reality hit him like a sledgehammer to the face.

"Dean, are you okay? Can you hear me?" The voice was poking at him again, and he wasn't quite sure it was something he wanted or not.

He nods quietly, trying to get his bearings. Cas must have taken him back to his room. Bed, walls, photos. His life and memories, his safe place in their new home. "Cas…"

"...Shhhh, just breathe. I know what you need, and I know it's all new."

New? What was new? Having a panic attack? That had to be what he meant. The pain in his shoulders started again, and he flexed his muscles. Something soft brushed against his face, and he froze, panicked. "Cas. What is on me? _Cas_."

He remained deathly still, like his father had taught him, completely immobile. _Castiel's hand on his scar again, soothing and relaxing waves washing over him…_

"Dude, stop that!" Dean stood, and saw what had happened.

He had _wings._ Big ones. The feathers rippled in acknowledgement, almost as if in greeting. _'Hello, we're your new attachments.'_

"No. No way. I'm not dead. I'm not in Heaven. I am in my room. In the bunker. Sammy is off reading some ancient text and I am having the world's weirdest dream. I am not sitting here seeing this." At this point, Dean had stood and was pacing, apparently still in a weird panicky dream-state he wasn't aware of yet. This was worse than the Djinn, this was definitely worse.

Castiel stood, wings tucking in behind him with one swift movement that only comes with practice. "Woah dude, _your _wings!" They were glorious. Like a raven, they were black and silky, but shimmering with silver and gold too. And luminous, like something out of a fantasy novel. They were enormous, and glimmering, and, for lack of a better word - _beautiful_. Dean looked back, and looked to his own wings. Really looked.

Dean's wings were a creamy blonde colour, similarly shimmering in gold and silver. His wings had streaks of green, bright and glowing, reminding him of a lime. The wings were big too, and fluffy. They reminded Dean of a cherub's wings, almost. He reached out to touch them gingerly, and marvelled at just how sensitive they were. He shivered in pleasure, and removed his hand gently. "Cas, am I _dead_?"

"No, I merely gave you some of my Grace. You needed it to survive. You appear to have OD'd on whiskey and sleeping pills, and I couldn't get you safe fast enough. So I gave you a little of my grace. Enough to officially title you as angel. However, you and I are both weak, so we aren't leaving the bunker until we've 'juiced-up', so-to-speak."

"You _gave me your grace?_ Dude, are you completely nuts?!"

Castiel looked exasperated, and if not for the circumstance, it would have been comical.

"Y'know what, whatever. Any excuse for a holiday, I suppose."

"Cas it's been a week, can we _please _go now?"

The angel just sighed exasperatedly, and, had it been anyone else, they would have been burying their head in their hands. "Dean, remember when I didn't see you for a month?"

Dean's mouth went dry as he nodded. He remembered it all too well.

"Well, I spent that time recharging. And you, as a fledgling, need even longer. In fact, I think nesting season is soon, so we'll wait until after that. Besides, there's a lot of training too and…"

Dean chose to tune Cas out at this point. Too many words.

This week had felt like forever, and he had cleaned for most of it. Dean had cleaned the entire bunker from top to bottom, found hidden rooms, as well as countless treasures and discoveries. He'd also pleasured himself more times than he could count, in places he didn't think were legal, and definitely not where Sam would allow. He'd read books with more substance that Busty Asian Beauties and cooked a variety of experimental pasta dishes and watched movies he had on his Netflix queue, even going so far as to play some Xbox (which Sam had picked up for him), and slept and eaten an assload of burgers and done just about everything he could to prevent being bored, anything he could do to prevent himself from getting cold feet and leave the bunker. He wasn't even sure _how _it was possible for him to be an angel right now.

"…and once we've accomplished all that, then we can hunt again." Castiel finished, not noticing that Dean had tuned out.

Dean stared blankly at Cas, realizing there was probably a whole bunch of important stuff in there. Cas stared back, waiting for some confirmation from Dean. But it wasn't forthcoming. It was obvious Castiel expected some kind of response, as the angel… No he supposed they were both angels now...Dean was going to have to think up another way to refer to Castiel if this was going to be the reality now.

Dean blinked slowly at Cas, set his mouth into a hard line, and said, simply, "I want to fly."

And, just like that, Dean found Castiel and himself in a completely deserted clearing, experiencing the thin air and crisp feeling of a mountain top, someplace that was decidedly NOT the bunker.

"Dean, slow down." Cas was now trying to talk him down from a tree, without too much luck. Dean had managed to work _up _but not _down_.

Turns out, wings have a _lot of power in them_, and Dean figured that out the hard way. At the present moment, his wings were tucked into his sides, and his heart was going a million miles a minute. Sure, it wasn't like flying in that giant metal box of death a few years ago, but it _was_ equally as scary. And not even humming Metallica would help him. He was high up, and far higher than he had intended to go. Dean was trying to take deep breaths, but if he breathed too deep then the branch would wobble dangerously.

"Dean, listen, you need to come down!"

"Shut up, Cas, I'm thinking up here!" He watched as Castiel began to pace, clearly aggravated. Dean had never seen him act like that before. It was the weirdest and coolest sensation, all at the same time. He really was thinking here, trying to work out how to get down without dying _again_ but nothing immediately came to mind.

"Dean, if you do _not _hurry, then I'll have to get you down. And if I have to do that, I _swear _I'll carry you bridal style."

Dean blanched. It was seemingly the only way, but by god he didn't wanna go down that way. He'd rather fall and break every bone in his body on the way down, to be honest. "We don't talk about this, ever."


	3. Chapter 2

Sam sat across from Dean, Bitch Face #5210 plastered across his face. "You're _what_."

"I'm an _angel_, Sammy. And it's not a bad thing, okay? I already had some practice at it."

Castiel's smirk forced Dean to give him Death Stare #9260. Castiel sobered up rather quickly after that.

Since Dean had become an angel, Cas had been so much more laid-back with him. He saw the smiles that Castiel hid behind his hand. He saw the light way that Cas shook his head when he saw Dean try to work out how to hold himself; now that he had wings. He saw that way that Castiel's face would fall when Dean would say something that belittled himself. It made him see the angel that his garrison would have seen. Seeing Cas smile and laugh and joke, and even seeing him sad, and angry and disappointed, it was seeing a whole new part of him. And Dean wanted to get to know him better. A _lot_ better. And that freaked him out.

"Dean, that's not the point. You were _dead_. Or so close to it that Cas had no choice. And you kept me in the dark, _again_." Dean's heart dropped. He was always letting Sam down despite all his attempts to do exactly the opposite.

"It's not like I had much choice in the decision. No one asked me. Cas coulda just left me-."

"Dean if you finish that sentence, I _will _stab you." Dean looked up at Sam, watching worry lace his eyes. The poor man would start getting wrinkles soon if he didn't stop his facial habits. Dean, on the other hand, would never get wrinkles. Unless he gave up his Grace. Well, _Castiel's_ Grace, anyway. Dean made a mental note to ask about that later.

"It doesn't matter, not really. Point is, you are an angel, and that's a point in our favour against Abaddon. Now we have two angels on our side to help, plus _Crowley_ with the-...wait."

At the mention of Crowley, Dean shared the thought with his brother. Dean lifted his sleeve, but lo and behold, the mark was still there. "How the…?"

Castiel leapt back, Grace filling the room and wings spread in defence. "Dean!? How did you get that, more importantly, _why_ did you get that?" Castiel was seething, and Dean could finally understand why angel's were so _terrifying_.

"I only got it in order to kill Abaddon, then the plan was to get rid of it." Seeing that not everyone was following what he was saying, the continued. "The First Blade doesn't work without the Mark. I swear Cas, I don't want it."

Castiel stiffened only a moment longer, and then relaxed. Wings tucked and Grace settled; he inched closer to Dean. "It's been eating away at you. No wonder you OD'd."

"I didn't do it on purpose Cas, I was just tired. I wanted to sleep." He knew Castiel could see his lie, but Sammy couldn't. Sam couldn't get in Dean's head the way Cas could, despite having grown up with him.

"Well, I'm going to try and get some sleep. I need to sort this all out in my head." Sam stood, coughed obviously and stretched before leaving the room, looking back only once to give the Puppy Eyes of Guilt. Dean sighed and fell onto the couch, thoroughly exhausted for the first time since he got his wings.

"Would you like me to rub them?"

Dean blinked, and quite possibly _visually_ blanched.

Castiel motioned vaguely. "Your wings. You have tension in them. There aren't any other angels that can really help you." Cas shrugged nonchalantly, as if nothing he had just said was the slightest bit weird. Dean wanted to take him up on the offer, but at the same time, didn't want some awkward midget angel groping his wings. Not that Castiel was _any _awkward angel, he was _Dean's _awkward angel. And that was another thing. When was it that Dean had started to think of Cas as his?

"Uhhhh…" Castiel rolled his eyes. Dean had Sam and his bitch faces to blame for that. The two of them had been hanging out a lot. Cas sighed before crossing the room and standing behind Dean, and began to knead. "Ooooohhh…" That was magical. Castiel's hands seemed to find all the knots, and rub them out. Dean began to relax, lost in the magical feeling of his first wing massage. Castiel bumped something, near the base of his wings, and Dean found himself with a dilemma.

Weirdest. Boner. Ever.

Dean tried to tuck his legs up, tried to hide it, but Castiel froze. "Dean, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to bump that, I just-."

"Cas, it's alright. Let's just...ignore it."

Dean looked around at Cas, and saw a flash of something. Sadly, his new Angel-Vision caught it. Castiel was upset. Upset about what? "Cas? What's wrong?"

"_Nothing_ Dean."

"You can't lie to me, man. Just say it."

Castiel seemed to struggle for a moment, internally.

Dean watched as he made up his mind, removed his hands and sat on the couch opposite Dean. He tried again, "What's eating you Cas?"

"You." Dean blinked. Once, twice; slowly. "_You_ are 'what's eating me'. I have all these random feelings, and I can't explain them, except I only get them thinking about you. Or talking to you, or just being in the same room as you. I tried looking at modern magazines and news articles about it, but they all just say I'm in love with you." Dean hadn't stopped blinking. Dean was processing.

"You what?"

Dean panted, trying to force more air into his lungs. Never mind that he didn't need it anymore, it was more for comfort than anything. Old habits were hard to break.

Castiel had taken a break from grappling with Dean for dominance, and Dean was eternally grateful. "Dammit Cas, go easy. I've never done anything like this before."

"Well then, I suggest you keep up." And with that, Castiel launched himself back onto Dean, wings flared and body arched. In the split second Dean had, he threw Cas up and over with his legs, wings open for balance (which was _finally _coming natural to him); arms braced for grounding. Castiel flipped and landed a little ways away. A desperate whine came out of Dean (which he will never admit) as Castiel launched again, this time side-swiping at the last second, grabbing Dean by his belt, and throwing him down.

He landed with a dull thud, and the hypothetical wind was knocked out of him. "Time!" He gasped quietly, still fighting the instinct that was breathing. "You win Cas."

The man stood and grinned ear-to-ear, which was a rare sight since his confession of love a short two weeks ago. Dean had been trying to forget about that, but something about the whole situation sat funny with him.

He took Cas' hand up, and right there. A little spark, a flare in Castiel's glow. Glow? How had Dean not seen _that _before? Kinda hard to miss really. A deep blue glow, emanating from his chest, bright but visible. How had he missed it before?

"Hey Cas? What does a soul look like?" Castiel motioned for Dean to head over to the Bunker's garage, and down toward the basement pool.

He explained as he walked. "Depends on the person, I suppose. Some people's are small, some large. Always a different colour, and shape. Yours has always been golden light, swirling larger and bigger than your physical body. Mostly, I think, because what makes you happy is when the people around you are happy." The cars glinted as they walked past, bright under the fluorescent lighting. The pool stairs were right up ahead.

"Okay, and how did you learn that? Was it one of those angel things that you learn? Like, wingling pre-school or something?" Dean took the stairs two at a time, eager to cool off in the pool. "Or was it something you learned from spending time with us humans?"

"Actually, one, baby angels are known as Sparrows. Who then become Cherubs, not those creepy ones Michelangelo painted. I'd bet you anything Gabriel was the messenger that day. And two, it was something I first learned about you, and then by process of observation learned of everyone else. Example, Sam's soul, though dim from his time in Hell, as was yours, is green, and his tends to swirl more directly through his hands and fingers. He tends to be someone who like to touch and heal. Hands-on kind of guy. You try to make people happy through all of your actions, which is why yours tends to just be everywhere."

They hit the locker room then, which was good because it gave Dean an excuse to pause the conversation right where it was getting uncomfortable. "Anyway, now it's time for you to learn how to control your wings in water."

"Great."

Dean didn't actually think it was possible to be _this _wet. Yet here he stood, drenched from head to wing to foot. _Especially _his wings. Which were smelling really interesting right now. There was a vague smell of wet bird mixed in with a woodsy musk and leather. _Why _his wings even had a smell was beyond Dean's usable comprehension. So instead of thinking too hard about it, he filed it away as a 'ask Cas later' and stood in the sun on the roof of the bunker, wings stretched out, head pointed up, eyes closed. The sun beating down on him was pleasant, even if he felt a little uncomfortable being in nothing but his boxer-briefs, but it was the quickest way to get dry after what Cas had done.

"_Cas, what are you gonna teach me in a _pool_, huh? Cas, why are you smirking like that? Dude, seriously…'_

He frowned, eyes still closed. That bastard angel had just shoved him into the pool. No warning at all. Then he had the unmitigated gall to stand there, laughing and gloating, eyes sparkling and skin crinkled at the corner of his lips and mouth. He actually had a really nice smile, when you got to see it. And nice eyes too. Those big innocent blue eyes had been less innocent these days, since he'd professed his love to Dean. Which was weird and comforting all at the same time.

An exasperated sigh made its way through his lips, completely beyond Dean's control. He bowed his head and opened his eyes slowly. There had to be a quicker way to dry off, angel's surely do it all the time. Crowley had put the Blade at the bottom of the ocean, and come up no worse for wear. He'd left Cas practically cackling at the pool, and he didn't know how much longer his privacy was going to last. Thinking about it, he could probably just exert some will over his body. That made complete sense, to Dean at least.

Taking a deep breath, Dean imagined the feel of his skin dry, and warm. Really tried to feel it. He imagined his wings losing their damp quality, in favour of the dry silky quality he had come to find they usually had. He imagined the feel of his skin under fingertips, soft and dry, and not _wet_. He imagined the warmth of a fire, the sun beating down on his skin, the crisp morning air of the mountaintop he'd tried to learn to fly on.

And then he was dry.

He wasn't exactly sure how it happened, but he did it. He opened his eyes to behold his awesomeness, and instead was met with the hungry, intense gaze of Castiel standing in his personal bubble. Instead of being startled like he usually was, he found himself expectant of it, almost like he knew Cas was there already. Like a new sense. Weird.

"Dean, why are you almost naked?" He could hear the sarcasm dripping from Castiel's voice. Finally, _finally,_ he had a grasp on this stuff, and the asshole angel's gotta use it on Dean?

"Well Cas, here's the thing. Turns out I figured out how to make myself dry. And now, because it's a little bit cold out here, I'm gonna test it on my clothes. So are you gonna stand there and watch or...?" Castiel nodded, eyes unabashedly raking over Dean's naked, mildly soft body. Dean was kind of used to it, at this point. He'd actually given Cas permission a week ago. Which was an awkward conversation in and of itself.

"_Look Cas, this is killing me. You like me? That's fine, but be honest about it. I'm sick of this friggen' awkwardness between us because you don't know how to act like a human. Just be yourself, and take what you need. I promise I've always done the same, it's your turn now."_

Being an angel had made Dean more honest, much to Sam and Castiel's delight. Dean actually felt a bit bad because he'd not been spending a lot of time with Sam, if any at all.

As a result of his angelhood, Dean felt like Sam deserved a more laid-back lifestyle. So now Sam got a full 9 hours of sleep. Dean didn't have to sleep anymore, so more stuff got done from the endless to-do lost of his life. He could watch over the bunker with Cas, and Sam got to function like a proper person. Dean also cooked _constantly_ and Sam frequently woke up to something or another being baked. In the first few days, Dean made 45 pies.

No exaggeration there. Literally 45 different pies. There was apple and chocolate silk and cherry and strawberry-rhubarb and something that was called mock-apple that was pleasantly surprising to Sam's tastebuds. It always surprised Sam how good Dean was at cooking, considering they'd never had real food travelling with their dad.

Castiel smiled proudly as he watched Dean dry his clothes in a second with sheer willpower. Dean had the biggest shit-eating grin plastered ear-to-ear. "C'mon, let's celebrate with Sammy. I'm going to make a kick-ass dinner. Gimme 3 hours, it'll be great."

And making dinner was an understatement. Dean created a masterpiece of a spread. Roast chicken, potatoes and broccoli and pumpkin. Bread rolls and creamy butter, potato bake and coleslaw, stuffing and mash, cheesy cauliflower and steamed greens, biscuits and gravy, cheese curds and more gravies and sauces than you could shake a breadstick at. Sam nearly died when he saw the table setting. "Dean, how are we supposed to eat all this?"

"Well, I _may _have invited a few friends." At his cue, Garth and his girlfriend, the waitress from their favorite diner down the road and her boyfriend, two homeless kids they had saved from a vengeful wight, and Timmy and his new adopted family strolled in. Mostly just people that they had met in the course of hunting, but still a nicely put-together family if Dean did say-so himself. And he was saying that. And all their eyes glinted with happiness, everyone taking a moment to smile at Sam. Dean discretely tapped Garth on the shoulder and indicated to a plate with rare steaks on it. Garth smiled appreciatively back at him. Sam's grin just widened, and he smiled and shook hands and hugged Garth before they all sat, and tucked in.

It was a night Dean would always remember. Even Cas was relaxed in front of everyone, just as he was with Dean these days. It was marvellous. They all talked and laughed about how they met and how they knew the Winchester brothers. Garth regaled everyone with his werewolf story again. The hunters in company all knew already, and so laughed and clapped along happily. Food was passed around, and they lapsed into a hungry silence as everyone guzzled down the plentiful food. Beers were passed and whiskey was poured. The night was rowdy and happy, and there was not a single fight or punch thrown, much to Dean's happiness.

Slowly, everyone said their goodbyes and made promises to do this all again, leaving Garth, Bess, (as Dean had _finally _learned her name) Sam, Cas and Dean to relax in front of the fire with their final deserts of the night.

When there was a noticeable lull in the conversation, Dean took it as a cue. "Well gentlemen, and lady, I think you can safely head off to bed. Garth, Sam can show you the room that we aired out for you. Cas and I will take care of cleaning up. We don't have to sleep, so go get some actual rest." Garth and Kathy grinned appreciatively, and left quietly. Sam, slouched low in his chair, smiled softly in the light of the fire.

"Dean, I hate to say this, but being an angel suits you. You're more honest, and happy, and how I imagine you should have always been. It's almost like a dream how good everything is." Cas excused himself, promising to start the dishes the 'human way' like they had taken to doing. Dean nodded him off.

Dean reached for a wine glass that was sitting on the coffee table between them. "Sammy, I have to admit, you're probably right. This has been so good. I can look after you now, but I can also let you have a break and be an actual person." Sam nodded thoughtfully, pondering that for a moment. While Sam stayed silent, Dean walked around the room picking up glasses and plates, intending to take the pile to Castiel.

"You're right. But that also means you have more time to look after yourself. After all, you denying yourself everything is what led you here. So go. Go and and get what _you _want." Sam's eyes flicked to the kitchen, and Dean knew _exactly _what Sam meant, that giant gangly asshole. "Dean, don't get that look, you know I'm right. He's crazy about you, and I know that you feel the same. Cas actually talked to me the other night, told me some stuff. You _do _love him, don't you?" Dean froze, and gently placed his pile down. He sat across from Sam, glaring steadily.

That question had struck something deep in him, and suddenly he actually thought about it. Dean had always thought of Cas as family. He wasn't quite sure what kind of family yet, though. He paused and sank into the couch, this was a talk he and his brother were going to have to have sooner rather than later. "You know Sammy, I gotta tell ya…."


	4. Chapter 3

Today was Dean's final day in the bunker, and frankly, he'd exhausted all options of passing the time. He couldn't read anymore. He couldn't watch any more television. There was nothing new to amuse him. He cleaned the bunker top to bottom one last time and had cooked and fussed and rearranged and Sam had said that if Dean touched any more furniture, he'd have Castiel banish him to the other side of the planet.

He found Cas down in the pool, swimming languidly, wings crackling in and out of existence. Watching his wings fade in and out of existence was fascinating to watch. One moment they were corporeal, solid black and iridescent, and the next sliding into an opaque smoky grey, before disappearing completely and starting all over again. Cas said that particular trick took centuries to learn. Testing himself, Dean laid back on one of the lawn chairs they had, and closed his eyes. He imagined himself making his wings fade and then disappear. Basically, he imagined himself being human again. The feeling of empty shoulders, no weight on his back, though they didn't really have them anyway. Removing them from his peripheral in his head, and in his memory. The weightless feeling did sweep over him for a moment, and then he felt normal again, save for Castiel.

"_Dean…_" He opened his eyes, and Cas had stood up in the water, wings floating about gracefully, pure wonder and concern in his eyes. He'd grown used to Cas appearing and disappearing, mostly due to the extra sense of knowing about it half a second earlier than he did as a human.

"Dude, what?" Cas merely pointed, and when Dean cast his gaze back, he almost panicked. _Almost._ "They're gone? Did I do that?" He blinked, and suddenly it was as if the wings had never left, shivering slightly in the wake of panic emanating from Castiel. "Dude, awesome! I thought you said it took centuries to learn?" Castiel flapped his wings once, and landed gracefully in front of Dean. He leaned forward, more concern than before on his face, in his muscles, even showing in his wings.

"It's _supposed _to, even in natural-born angels. How are you doing it? What's the spell you're using?" Dean frowned, not quite understanding what Castiel was saying to him .

"Spell? Dude, no. I'm just imagining it. I laid back, and thought about having no wings, and it just _happened_. Just like on the roof. I imagined my clothes dry, and the feeling of being dry. There's no spell, man." Castiel glared, and Dean was suddenly a little worried at his advanced prowess with catching onto the whole Angel thing. With only a few seconds warning, Castiel and Dean were standing in Heaven. Or at least, he assumed that's where they were because it was just so _damned_ _bright._

"This is where I come to think. It's not my Heaven. Angels don't get them. Angels get offices and work spaces, galleries. Souls get their own Heavens, all existing within, on top of, or adjacent to one another. I believe you've already seen yours and Sam's, plus the combined effort of Jo, Ellen, and Ash's Heaven." Dean thought back to that day, being in those different Heavens, being in the Garden, finding out Sam was his soulmate on a technicality. Though, he assumed that had been changed, because his attachment to Sammy was becoming alarmingly less and less. Not to the point where he didn't love Sam, but not so….attached.

"Yeah, I remember that." Dean tried not to show how it affected him. "So you are allowed in other people's Heavens?"

"Yeah, and if you listen, I'm sending out a message to a particular Angel, who can help….assess you."

"As long as it isn't Naomi doing the assessing, I couldn't care less."

A short while later, a smartly dressed Asian man ambled up to them. "You called, Castiel?"

"This is Dean Winchester, newly recruited Fledgling. And he's possessing quite a few abilities he shouldn't yet, at least, certainly not by the traditional means. Dean, this is Andriel, Guardian of Prowess and Talent, Angel of Saturdays and part of the Grigori Watcher Clan, as I am."

"Pleased to meet you Dean. Come, let's find somewhere we can test you out."

Castiel and Andriel stood to one wall of the stark, white room that they were now in. Dean was leaning, braced on the only table in the room, trying not to listen to the hushed tones they spoke in and not succeeding very well. It didn't help that the other two angels were speaking a little too loudly. Or was it the fact that Dean's senses were starting to adapt? Another thing to file under 'Ask Cas Later'.

"Castiel, you know the first test is in his eyes. And, from all outward appearances, he's passing that without even having a closer look. They are, as written, quite 'unnatural and ethereal in color.' I have seen few Fledglings adapt this quickly."

Cas cleared his throat and moved so that he was blocking the movement of his lips from Dean, fearing the man had learned to read lips in all his years as a hunter. He hadn't, however, accounted for Dean's newfound hearing talent. Which Dean hadn't exactly accounted for either.

"No, Andriel, they have always been like that, since he was a small human." Castiel looked everywhere but at the angel in front of him. For the first time Dean had ever seen, he was embarrassed in front of another angel. Dean bit his lip in thought. Yes, it was true that Cas had been assigned as his personal guardian angel all those years ago, but this was something more. Far beyond the profound bond, far beyond the easy friendship they had developed, Cas had noticed his eyes. Like, _really _looked at them. It was simultaneously creepy and overwhelmingly charming at the same time...

"Alright Castiel, what do _you _think we should test then?" Cas' eyes flicked towards Dean's for half a second, before settling on his own shoes, which he began to scuff like an anxious 12-year-old.. Andriel tapped his foot impatiently, waiting for Castiel to speak up.

"Well, how about the butterflies?" Andriel sat a moment, pensive. Dean watched this entire exchange quietly, assessing his danger. He supposed old habits died hard. He noticed his hand reaching for the gun that wasn't even there - one that hadn't been there for quite some time now that he thought about it.

Andriel turned to Dean, smiling gently, but nothing about it made Dean comfortable. Instead he found his skin crawling. He tried to shake it, he was an angel now, he was supposed to put all of that behind him now. Angels weren't paranoid. He had to learn to trust angels as much as he did Sammy. The man in front of him was the same species and person as the friend standing just a bit too close to next to him. Speaking of which, 'Cas, get out of my ass."

"Dean I'm not in your-... Dean."

Dean cracked a slow smile. This was a learning process for Castiel as much as it was for Dean. A small part of Dean appreciated how far Cas had come, how much he cared for himself and others now. "I heard you say something about butterflies?"

"Yes, butterflies. Angels have a good mastery of most of the nature God created for us, but none have the relationship with us quite like butterflies. They were made for us, as friends and as allies. There's a particular reason that they eat meat, you know? They have helped us fight many battles, because we can manipulate them."

"Hold on. Manipulate?" Dean blinked stupidly at Castiel. _Butterflies?_

"I mean that loosely, more like we ask and they comply. But being able to ask them to do something, and they do it, is a very angelic trait."

"So, what? They're like dogs? You can 'ask' them to attack something and they will?" Dean's mind went right to the image of Sam being swarmed by a mass of colorful wings and his little brother trying futilely to swat them away. To Dean at the young age it was, he couldn't admit it, but it was beautiful to see all those colours, all that beauty swarming to his little brother.

"I didn't do that, Dean." Castiel gave himself away.

"Didn't do what?"

"The butterflies when Sam was younger. That wasn't me. "

"What do you - wait. Did you read my mind?"

Castiel continued as if he didnt' hear him."...Although it does seem angelic. Perhaps Gabriel was keeping a closer eye on you two than he cares to admit… Though that being said, you were right, they were very pretty."

"Cas I swear to God will you stay outta my head." Dean smirked though, at his own joke. The joke fell on deaf ears, however.

There was a silence as the things unsaid remained that way. This was not the time or the place to resolve all the issues they had shared since...well, since the start of what the both of them thought as 'the Free Will Years'.

"So are we doing the butterflies or…" Castiel's stance changed from friendly and open to defensive. It was subtle, but there. Just a small change in the way he held himself really, but it made Dean suddenly defensive too.

"You don't have anything to worry about Dean, we just need to scope out where you are in terms of knowledge of yourself. Mastery of willpower is something already impossible by angel standards _for_ an angel, so this is as new to us as it is to you. But this is also good because we can help to teach you things as well."

"So what do we need to do?" Dean was resigned to his fate at this point. He just wanted to get this over with and get onto the job of being and Angel - whatever the hell that entailed.

Castiel smiled over at him and in the blink of an eye, there was a colorful swarm filling the room. "Call them."

"By name?"

"No, Dean. I need you to think for a moment. Remember how you got dry? Well I want you to reach out, and sense them. Feel their presence, connect with them."

"Sense them?" Dean closed his eyes as he had before, relaxing every muscle in his body. He felt his wings ripple for a moment before he caught up with the sensation and began to focus.

"Okay, can you feel my presence? Go quiet and reach out with your mind. I need you to do that with the butterflies. Reach out and hear them."

Dean steeled his mind, and settled his pounding heart. He actually felt his mind go still, which was weird and distracting at the same time, but instead of focusing on that, he went with his gut. Relaxing, exhaling, he treated this meditation like he would shooting at the range with his father. He sent himself back to his first shoot-out with his dad. Once his mind was still, he reached out gently.

Butterflies were fucking weird.

All of them were thinking together and, yet, separately. And all had one thought louder than the rest of the buzzing of '_food', 'pretty',_ and '_sex'_. That thought, that _one _loud thought, was '_angels'_ and it was the sweetest, fondest thought, filled with love and loyalty. And it weirded Dean out to no end.

"Dean, can you hear them?" Castiel regarded Dean for a moment, and Andriel wrote something down.

"Cas are you in my head again?"

"Yes, but I figure you'd prefer me to Andriel. Dean, can you hear the butterflies?"

"Yeah, why?"

"You shouldn't be able to hear anything. Butterflies don't think, they are entirely instinctual beings, incapable of anything then forwarding their race." Dean blinked rapidly, processing that for a moment.

"Then tell them to shut the fuck up for me, would you?"

And, just like that, there was a silence. One that burned his ears and sent a prickling feeling down his spine. Dean gasped quietly, unexpectant of that reaction. He looked at Cas accusingly, and Castiel looked quietly back, waiting for something Dean wasn't apparently giving.

Castiel blinked, and frowned. "Dean, we didn't do that."

"Like hell you didn't. Don't mess with me, man. It's not funny."

"Dean, we didn't do it. Angelic law prevents us from interfering in these tests. This is all you. Give them another command."

Castiel gestured to the butterflies, which had now settled on the floor by the fake door.

Still not believing what he was being told, Dean looked over to them and smirked. He was going to show Cas.

All at once, the mass moved again, headed right for where the angels stood. If Dean thought it was funny to see a tiny Sammy Winchester become a walking butterfly, then it was easily twenty times as funny to see the very stoic Castiel in the same situation.

Dean let out a chuckle that echoed in the room. Being an Angel was definitely more fun than he thought it would be.


	5. Chapter 4

"Rainbows Cas? How gay are you guys?" Castiel rolled his eyes, and Dean made a mental note to slap Sammy for teaching him that. When Castiel's gaze flicked over, Dean remembered that Cas was listening, so instead he thought about how badly he wanted these stupid tests to be over.

"Dean, relax, this is the easiest one."

"So this is the last one then? You angels don't really have a tough test then, do you? High standards not really your thing?"

"I never said _last_, I said _easiest._ I'll have to teach you to listen better." And for a moment there, Dean swore Castiel was flirting. But surely not, right?

"That's the same thing though, isn't it?" Seeing the way that Castiel was looking at him now, he decided to drop the line of questioning and just do as he was asked. Something about his gaze had Dean reassessing their relationship.

Castiel gestured to a small glass of water, which appeared in front of Dean's eyes. "Go on Dean, make a rainbow."

"Like, just think about it?"

"If you can make butterflies that don't think, silent, I am pretty sure you can master making a rainbow pretty easily." Castiel had begun to speak differently, and Dean was very confused. Was Castiel seriously _flirting_ with him?

"How many colors do you want?"

"How many colours are in the rainbow, Dean?" The sarcasm fell out of Castiel so fast, Dean almost didn't catch it.

"Five or six? I dunno." He shrugs, not really thinking that he'll be able to do this at all. Especially when he had no real understanding of how rainbows even worked. Maybe it was magnets.

Without skipping a beat, Castiel must have read his mind, because, 'How are you a mechanic if you don't know how rainbows work?"

"What the hell does that have to do with rainbows? Mechanics are for cars. Rainbows are not anything _near _cars."

"But it's all science Dean. You can do this. Just try."

"But it's not science, it's colors." Dean was getting increasingly upset at the notion that they were remotely the same thing.

"Science is science Dean. Apply logic here. We gave you water. When do rainbows occur? _Think _Dean!" Castiel's fists were balled up at his sides, and Dean's gaze flicked to Andriel, who was furiously writing in his paper pad.

"Cas, that's a stupid question. You get rainbows when it rains. I suppose that's why the hell they call them _rain_bows in the first place."

"Exactly! You can do this!"

"You aren't listening to me. I can't do this. You said this was the easiest ones and then the only instructions you give me is MAKE THE THING." Castiel visibly shook he was so frustrated with the lack of confidence that Dean had in himself. And Dean could tell, which only made this whole thing worse.

"Dean, seriously. Make the rainbow." Castiel's voice went deadpan, like Sam's. Dean really did have to slap his little brother. Next thing he knew, Cas was going to start in on the bitch faces. If Dean heard 'get this' from Cas, he would lose his shit.

"I. CAN. NOT. MAKE. A. RAIN. BOW." He gestured violently with his arms.

"You. Made. A. Rain. Bow." Castiel sighed in relief, and Dean took half a moment to absorb that. And as sure as hell, when Dean turned his head, there it was, as clear as any he had seen in his entire life, the roy, the g, and the biv, in all of it's glory - A FREAKING RAINBOW.

"I made a rainbow. Cas, how in the-."

"Dean. You made a rainbow." Andriel smiled, and for the first time since Dean got here, it was warm. He was so pleased with himself, the rainbow became even more intense, and Dean couldn't tell if the pride was coming from himself or emanating off Castiel, but he let himself enjoy it.

But it was short lived as there was a look that was exchanged between the senior angels.

"What?" Dean asked, trying to decipher the look without assuming the worst. "Guys, did I do okay?" Castiel looked back, trying to reassure Dean.

"Dean, you are doing so well. It's weird because you are only a month old. Most fledglings aren't anywhere close to this level. I don't know if it's your dad's training, or just your exposure to angels, but you a mastering this really quickly."

"But this one might be a bit harder?" Dean was worried that this would keep him from achieving the proper status that he deserved.

"Don't think of it as hard, but just different. How it works is different, and what it achieves is different. Do you understand?"

"Fine. What do I have to do now?" Exasperated, Dean threw his arms up.

"I'll show you. Because it's a bit more complicated in how it works, and how it's applied. You'll be diving into my mind and showing me a memory. The further back you go, the better. I'll show you how it works from the inside. Here." Castiel held his hand out, an open invitation that Dean could easily decline.

Dean mentally shrugged, and nodded. Castiel's hand touched Dean's forehead, and the soft, calloused hands felt like they reached all the way inside. Instantly, Dean was taken away from the soft, white light of the angel test room, and deep inside a memory. Much like his walk through heaven, Dean was now sat atop the Impala, fireworks exploding above him. The acrid air smelled heavily of ozone and metal and something that Dean had always assumed was childhood wonder. Castiel stood next to him, trying to explain what was happening.

"So I'm showing you a recent memory, of you and Sam on 4th of July. But I want you to know I'm going to take you back a little further, and to do that requires really getting inside someone's head. So give me a moment."

The first thing that hit Dean was the next smell. It was familiar, and warm. Dean's heart leapt, and he couldn't work out why. The smell was homey, and floral, with vanilla and cinnamon. There was an undertone of something new, and pleasant. Not an animal smell, more human. It made him think of Sam for some reason. And warm blankets.

Was it Lisa? No, she was more fruity in perfume. Citrusy almost. Jo didn't wear any. She only smelled of shampoo, and occasionally gunpowder and cheap whiskey. Did Charlie? He hadn't really noticed. But she reminded him of something homey and warm. He thought about fresh air when he thought of Charlie. One of the women he had dated? Not Cassie, she had worn something that was most assuredly advertised in a woman's fashion magazine. Or Rhonda Hurley - she had worn that god-awful Patchouli and smoked clove cigarettes. He didn't think and ex would elicit that kind of reaction anyway. The majority of the others usually smelled of alcohol and cheap hotels. Then who?

It hit Dean like a train full of bricks. '_Mom...'_

The feeling that hit Dean when he realised who he smelled almost blocked out the scene around him. His childhood bedroom, his blue bear shirt spread across the bed. He could smell her, she surrounded him and this space and he could _feel_ her. It made his heart and chest constrict tightly, and he wanted to sit down and get over this.

He felt as though he could reach out and touch the memory of her that was in his mind right now. The smells were getting more intense now and it was taking all he had to fight against it. He wanted to call out to Cas, but he felt so small, so helpless.

"Dean, take my hand." Dean's brain stopped processing. He couldn't breathe. Couldn't think. Next he knew there was a hand on his shoulder and a tugging, calming feeling coming from within his heart. There he was back in the white room, the last lingering scent of his mother clinging to his shirt.

Dean sat rigidly on the floor, trying to take at least one full breath. Castiel's hand was still on his shoulder, clinging tightly. Dean's head moved, almost automatically, and met with the most intense, regretful gaze that Castiel had ever given. Dean was literal inches from his face, and being that close both terrified and relaxed him.

"Castiel. Stay. The fuck. Out of my. Mother. Fucking. Brain." Dean couldn't help it. As soon as the helplessness left him, all he could do was seethe. He wasn't even angry at Cas, he was angry at himself. How could he succumb to such weakness so quickly?

"Dean, you have to do the same to me now. That's the test."

"You mean to tell me that wasn't it?" Castiel shook his head. "Well fuck me, Cas." Eye roll. Sam was definitely being told off.

"Dean, concentrate, deep breaths. And come inside me."

Dean blanched at that. "_Really_?"

"Really."

He took a deep breath, and reached his hand out gently. The feeling he experienced when he touched Castiel's face was unlike anything he had experienced. He was looking back at himself, while also looking at Castiel. He could feel the ghost of his hand on his own face, as well as the soft stubble on Cas' jaw. Once he adjusted, he was confused as to what to do next.

"Open your mind, I guess?" Dean relaxed his mind as much as he could given the circumstances a few minutes ago. And with each breath, he saw more of Castiel and less of the room around him. But was it really Castiel? He saw Jimmy in front of him, crying and begging, but he also saw Claire, the little blonde girl, with a face of ice. It was bizarre, but Dean remembered something vague. He and Sam were finding him, and found Jimmy instead. And then he was Jimmy and sitting at his dinner table with his family, and then he was Castiel watching Jimmy dip his hands into boiling water, and he was Jimmy again, hearing Castiel's _real voice_. A bright white light, and then the exact feeling that Jimmy described to them, a comet, and Dean couldn't get off.

The next thing Dean experienced was _food_. The feeling of a gnawing hunger, deep in the pit of his stomach. The warm softness of bread, and the taste of meat, tender and juicy and greasy. The soda tingling in his mouth, crisp and refreshing and, pleasant and oh-so right and cloyingly sweet but so welcome on his parched tongue. The feeling of sandwiches in his belly with his family, even through the judgemental stares of his still-religious family. The smell of his wife's perfume, the smell of Claire's detangler on school mornings, the smell of coffee.

Then Dean smelled chlorine, bleach and something vaguely hospital-y. It burned through his nostrils and made him feel danger. He flinched back a bit and felt Cas pull him back in. He was sure this counted as angel interference, but he was quietly glad for the help. The smell was getting stronger at this point. Dean's stomach rolled over, flipping and roiling deep in the pit of his navel. He swallowed heavily, and moved forward, trying to come out of the other side of this memory. He could feel, on the outside of his body, shaking and pressure on his forehead, but instead he looked for Castiel's soul, trying to find his way through the waves of emotion and colour.

Finally it all settled, and Dean watched three different versions of the same event. It was hard to describe, but there were physically in front of him, floating lazily, pulsing in time with Dean's heartbeat. He looked around, seeing one very close to him, one further aside, and then one lazily hanging at the back, of the almost-room.

On the first memory, the one closest to him, he could see Castiel looking down on Jimmy, the small man's face arched up, saying yes. Then it zoomed in and Dean dizzily pulled back, fighting his stomach again. The one next to him, floating in arms reach, was Jimmy, talking to his wife, then there was a blur and he looked into the cold grey of his daughter's eyes. He was begging Castiel to please take him back. Dean had seen both of these, and it offered nothing new to him, so instead he looked up, at the third.

A sense of panic powered through him, but not from within him. He looked around and saw a large shape bent over, quivering quietly. He moved forward, albeit slowly because it felt like he was wading through _mud._ And every step he took got harder, but he needed to get to this golden creature, he felt a pull, and the panic emanating from it was torture to listen to. As he moved closer, he started making out more features, like a lion's face, and a long, glowing mane. The being moved, and he saw a goats head, ravens feathers, and…

...a giant handprint on its arm.

A handprint? Why would something so golden and ethereal have a handprint burned into its shoulder? He waded forward, and then out of nowhere the resistance disappeared. Dean stumbled but kept his footing, and as he raised his head, bright purple eyes stared back at him. The lion's head held his gaze, and as Dean's heart went into over-drive he took a deep breath, steeled his mind, and reached his hand out.

The lion leaned into his open palm, and the sensation that ran through Dean was so familiar and alien at once, it made his heart still. The goat's head bleated softly, and he turned to see the raven looking out from under a wing that apparently this thing had. 3 heads, and so big he couldn't see where it ended. He looked it over, looking at the mixture of skin, fur and feathers, trying to work out just _what_ it was. He looked around, back at the memories, around the vague darkness of the almost-room, and tried to really get a scope of where he was. The small memory, the one that hung back and seemed almost shy, was edging closer to him. He reached out, gently caressed it and instantly saw.

_Claire…_

He was looking at Claire, she was asking Castiel questions. What it felt like, if her dad was going to be okay, would this help him? Dean heard a soft, lilting voice, with bells and ethereal singing answer her back. Reassuring her, Castiel sang soft words filled with promises, assurances and love. Claire closed her eyes, and opened herself up. The dizzy rushing feeling happened again, but this time Dean was prepared. He watched Claire stand, now Castiel, and felt her fear and love inside of Castiel's quiet defiance.

Claire's fear was realised when she saw Jimmy again. Dean could feel her scratching and clawing at herself, so desperate to get to her father, screaming and crying, falling on Castiel's then-uncaring ears. '_Daddy! Daddy please help me!' _Dean's heart leapt, and without helping it, tears began to stream down her face. He heard a low growl, and pulled himself out of the memory. The creature sat next to him, tears streaming from all three heads. He reached out again, stroking each head gently, calming himself and the creature down.

The sound of wings pulled him out of his reverie, and he turned to behold something 3 times the size of the beast behind him. Glowing blue, it was easily the size of the Chrysler building. Sporting 4 white horse heads, a set of beautiful white wings, and beneath that a set of giant bee wings, the creature made his heart leap with joy, though for the life of him, he couldn't work out why. And then he saw, just there on the shoulders where giant cat paws grew from strong muscular arms, was another handprint.

These creatures were linked?

Both creatures had that handprint. Both on the opposite arm from each other though. It was branded onto the skin, thick scar tissue shining brightly against the dim glow of the creature. A memory, from nowhere, filtered forward into his view, and in the lifeless blob, he saw fire. Hot, red heat, chains and claws and meathooks. He leaned closer, dipped inside, and immediately regretted it. Dean looked inside and saw his saviour. Castiel descending and his hand braced against Dean's. It was bizarre to watch himself so desperately grabbing back, locking their arms together. He pulled out of the memory at the same time he saw a blaze of white emanating from their hands.

Dean looked back, and put two and two together more quickly than he would have liked. Dean was looking at his angel, and Castiel's angel. The horse was Castiel, and the lion was himself.

Shit.


	6. Chapter 5 (EDITED)

When Dean's eyes opened, he was back in the white room. Castiel was slumped against him, foreheads touching, arms clasped together, damned near cuddling. Taking a deep breath, he shook Castiel's arm gently, and beheld his blue eyes opening. He smiled gently at Dean, breathing shakily. "I'll be okay Dean. I haven't thought about them in a long time. Andriel, we spoke in there too, so mark down both tests as a success."

"Castiel, it looked like you interfered." He leaned back, shaking his head.

"I didn't interfere. He was in my head, Andriel; you know I would not compromise something like this." Andriel's mouth set in a hard line, but he wrote in the notepad anyway, no doubt noting something unsavoury. Dean looked back to Castiel, and rubbed his hand in small circles on his back, hoping to get him feeling a little better. Seeing Cas physically deflate led Dean to believe it was working somewhat. But he needed to know, so he placed his other hand on Cas' cheek, and thought really hard.

"_Cas? How are you?" _Castiel stiffened, and locked eyes with Dean. "_Cas, can you hear me?"_

"**Yes, I can. Dean how are you doing this?"**

"_To be honest, I just thought about it." _Dean smirked, proud that he was surprising everyone with how easy this was. Castiel must have picked up on that, because Dean felt a gentle shove to go along with the easy smile that graced his lips. "_I'm just glad that you are feeling better."_

"**I'm glad too Dean. You know with practice we can do this without touching?"**

"_Well that will be a bit better than praying whenever I need you." _Castiel shoved gently again, and Dean scooted backward, helping the both of them stand. "Alright Andriel, what's next?"

"Voice projection. I'll be showing you some clips, and you need to talk exactly like them. Take on their voice. Do you understand?" Dean nodded. It was like doing impressions. That seemed simple enough. He had practice in this. He'd had to find a way to amuse Sam all those years ago in the back of the Impala on those long drives, after all.

The first voice was that of his father's. Easy. He had mastered that one as almost one of the first ones he ever did - after Mickey Mouse, that is. Dean had taken to mimicking him so often, he could call whichever school he was at, and bail that day. After hearing it only once, he parroted it back.

Castiel smiled and it only encouraged Dean to continue.

The second voice was harder for Dean, as he had never really heard it before, so it was all new to his ears. It was earthy, and gravelly, light and deep at the same time. He had to have them play it a few times before he tried it, but he figured he did well enough when he glanced over to see and impressed look on Castiel, and even Andriel's face.

It was the third one that would be Dean's undoing. It was a voice that was right on the edge of memory and one that affected him in the most disturbing way. It made him warm, deep in his navel, spreading through his entire body. He couldn't place where he had heard it nor why it was so familiar, but it was. And it was deep in his bones. It was light, lilting and sounded almost like singing, but at the same time it reverberated deep within his soul.

Once he had also parroted that one back, he turned to his audience. The faces he was met with were ones of shock and awe. Dean's nape prickled, and he fought the urge to blush.

"How did I do?" Dean asked, rubbing the back of his neck in a holdover from his time spent as a human.

"I would say very well, Dean," Castiel managed to whisper out.

"Then why are you two looking at me like that?" Dean frowned, fearing he would never understand angels.

"That last voice?" Cas waited for Dean to acknowledge him. When he did, Cas continued. "It was in Enochian, Dean. You spoke in Enochian."

Dean blanched, and by the look on Castiel's face, everyone could see. "I spoke _Enochian_? How do I speak a language I barely know, let alone hear?" Dean's eyes flicked between Andriel and Castiel, who just shrugged, and barely covered his concern. He had thought he was doing so well, too. But then he saw, just a millisecond, a flash of pride, and Dean's heart swelled with…

What the fuck? No, Dean Winchester did not love Castiel. Refused, even. He wasn't even _gay _or anything.

Breathing deeply, and ignoring Castiel's confused look, Dean turned to Andriel. "Alright, let's forget that I don't even _know _Enochian and managed to nail that test and move on. What's next?"

"Well, it's only going to get harder, so now would be a good time to rest your Grace. Castiel, he has 3 days to be back here, understand?" Castiel nodded sagely, and motioned to Dean.

He and Cas stood back in the bunker once more. Castiel stepped forward, right into Dean's personal bubble. "You mastered those tests quite well. I am very proud of you."

Was it just Dean, or was the sexual tension suddenly very strong? On second thoughts, why did he even think that?

"Uhh, right. Awesome. So, uh, I think I'm gonna go take a bath. I...I need to just soak. Wash this day off of me. Go update Sammy, or...something." And without even waiting for an answer, Dean turned on his heels and walked down the corridor, heading straight for his personal bathroom. Within five minutes he had stripped down and run a piping hot spa bath. Every muscle screamed at him as he sank into the large tub, but he ignored it, the water would help.

For some reason, Dean found himself thinking back on his feelings, noticing he was lapsing into old habits by denying that he felt at all. He had to stop lying to himself, his feelings for Castiel ran far deeper than he was even aware of, and it had him worried. Was he gay? Could you even be gay with an _angel_? After all, he was technically that big-ass monster looking beauty that he saw earlier. And it wasn't like angels had genders, per se. It was more the vessel - and he was pretty sure his attraction wasn't solely based on the vessel. And that was sure-as-hell wasn't something he really wanted to think about while he was being honest with himself.

So many questions ran through Dean's head, but the one thing that kept coming up was Castiel and the feelings that he had for him. He sighed, so wound up and tense, and decided to stop thinking. Except, he couldn't stop thinking, at least not about that damned rogue angel, Castiel. The remnants of the sexual tension had Dean thinking of the one time he _had_ seen Cas naked. Lean but muscular, more like a runner or an athlete than the accountant he looked to be with that tan trenchcoat and perfectly cut suit. His soft tanned skin, big blue eyes…

He had no idea when he started stroking himself, but Dean was not enough in denial with himself that he would stop anytime soon. He just leaned back and tried imagining what it would be like to muss that head of dark hair up, run his fingers up and down Castiel's skin, the feeling of Cas' tongue against his. '_Ah shit...' _His stroking ran faster, he squeezed harder, it felt _so _good. '_Ah Cas…'_

A flutter of wings, heat rising in his cheeks, his hand stilled.

"Oh. Dean, I thought you called me. I didn't… Are you…?" Cas's eyes grew wide when he saw the man in the bath.

Dean's face grew hotter, as he tried to pull non-existent bubbles over himself. Hell, it worked in the movies...

"Are you…" Cas tread lightly, but Dean was _sure _he had seen an eyebrow twitch. "...masterbating?"

Angry at what he might have seen, Dean stopped his feeble attempts to hide his anatomy. "Jesus, Cas! Subtlety never was your strong point, was it?"

Castiel blushed this time, and it made Dean feel better and also maybe a tad more horny.

Dean sighed, talking when all he really wanted to do what shut up and and finish his bath. "Yes I was…doing _that_. And yes, I'll admit, I was thinking of you, okay? You already made your feelings known, I suppose maybe I feel the same way. But it's confusing because it's hard to admit because I'm not _gay!_"

"Dean, I'm not technically-."

"I _know, _but that don't make it easier, okay?" Dean sighed, his confused boner continued to make itself known. Castiel appeared to be looking anywhere but the bathtub, poor guy, and it was just adorable to watch. Frankly, Dean had had enough. "Strip, Cas."

"I'm sorry, what?" Dean frowned, and decided to remove Cas' clothes himself. With a quick thought, Cas was naked. He gestured to the bath invitingly, and Castiel looked even more confused than before. Dean gestured again, frustrated at how hard this was getting.

Cas sighed, and, with reluctance, climbed into the bath to accompany the confused former human. Dean leaned forward then, placing his hand where the handprint should go, and Cas shivered despite the heat of the water. "Dean, please. It's hard enough for me without you doing this."

"Relax will you? Don't be such an uptight asshole. This is as weird and new to me as it is for you. But I'm sick of telling myself lies. I care about you, okay? A lot. Quite a lot more than I thought, so I'm just going to try this out. Just letting myself have this. That isn't selfish, is it? Do you want this too?"

"So badly, Dean. Please…" His hand slid down Castiel's arm, floating on the water momentarily, before sinking down into the water. Cas rose up to meet him, his half-hard dick rutting gently against Dean's hand.

He grasped Castiel's dick gently, eliciting a delightfully light sound from deep inside of his chest. Squeezing lightly, Dean trailed feather-light fingers down Castiel's chest with his other hand, while stroking him roughly. Poor Cas, who Dean suspected had never really experienced this kind of thing, must be feeling conflicting touches so intensely. The hint being the glorious moans coming from his mouth.

Castiel's mouth, making all the noise that it was, was so full and pink, Dean couldn't help himself. Keeping his grasp on Castiel, Dean leaned forward, and slipped his fingers into the other angel's mouth, slicking them with saliva. Then Dean pulled his fingers from his own mouth, and slipped them down into the water. Dean's mouth reached Cas' ear, and whispered quietly, "I want you so bad."

"Fuuuck Dean…" He smirked, Castiel never swore. He slipped his fingers inside, and Castiel threw his head back so fast Dean would have feared whiplash in a human. He began to kiss Cas, while moving his fingers in and out, curling them, searching. Instead, what Dean got was an image, a small plug-shaped object, with a jewel on the end, which confused the hell out of him. He stopped stroking Cas, and just as he did, he felt something else hard in his hands.

He pulled away and beheld the plug in his hands.

"Cas, what…?" He blinked, surely he was seeing this wrong. "Are you blushing?"

"Where did you get that? Have you been in my room?" The plug slipped from Dean's hands, splashing them both. Dean's fingers had frozen inside of Cas, and half a second later, Dean realised what the plug was.

"Oh Castiel, you dirty little fuck. That is so hot." His lips crashed into Castiel's, all hope of dignity gone. And who really cared? Fumbling, he searched for the plug, gently pushing Cas up the bathtub, for easier access. His fingers closed around it, and in one swift movement, had positioned it against Cas' hole, nudging ever-so-slightly. Cas' head flew back so fast it was a wonder that he didn't break something.

"_Unh… _Dean… _Please…_" Dean smirked. Seeing Cas all hot and bothered and _begging_ had his erection straining. He nudged harder, and felt Castiel just _pull_ it in with his tight muscles. Dean couldn't take it anymore, and took Castiel into his mouth.

Blowing guys wasn't all that bad, Dean reckoned. Almost like eating a banana, or an ice-cream, without the teeth. Then he tasted the beads of pre-cum leaking out of Cas, and that was it, he wanted more of Cas, more of this. One hand moved up and down Castiel's length, the other cupped his balls gently, squeezing and massaging. Dean's mouth worked on licking and sucking anything he could; dick, stomach, balls, whatever Dean could get to fastest.

The noises coming out of Castiel were illegal, that much was sure.

Dean settled on suckling noisily on Cas' dick, holding his hips down firmly. Dean may be an angel now, but having a man thrust his way to the back of the throat was uncomfortable, even without the…

Dean stopped pushing on Cas' hips, and started fiddling with the buttplug instead. Cas bucked heavily, and rather than gagging, Dean just took every inch expertly. A low growl came from somewhere in Dean's chest, and the vibrations must have done something delicious to Cas, because next Dean knew, he was swallowing hot seed, directly down his throat.

"AAaaaahhh fuck Dean." Dean pulled off with an audible 'pop' noise.

"Language, Cas!" He smirked as Cas stared dumbfounded. Kissing Cas gently, he pulled the buttplug out next, causing another groan. As Castiel settled back into the lukewarm water, his knee grazed against Dean's straining erection, and his eyes flicked down.

"Oh, Dean. We never... I should..."

"'S fine, Cas." Dean smiled lazily. But Cas wouldn't take no for an answer, and Dean found himself being awkwardly stroked.

"Please, let me." Dean just shrugged, lay back, and tried to enjoy… whatever this was. He watched as Cas tried to mimic the strokes he'd done earlier, applying pressure in awkward bursts. It was everything Dean could do not to laugh, it was adorable to watch. He took Castiel's hand, and began to guide him gently, groaning quietly to encourage him. Cas grinned, picking up the pace slightly, but with Dean guiding him, it was a lot gentler.

"Ugh, yeah. Like that Cas…"


	7. Update

I know that you'll all look at the email and flock to see my new chapter.

It's not ready yet. I am very sorry to say that. Life got in my way. I got very depressed, I haven't been able to look at stories, let alone write mine. I'm feeling better, and it'll likely get restarted back after Christmas. QueenFlufferNutter has children, and Christmas is always busy for her, as well as me. So expect a new chapter in the January/February area. Thank you for all of your patience, and I apologise for life being a sucky fucker.

Stay beautiful guys!


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